


I Will Watch Over You

by sydkn3e



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-07 06:56:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8788039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sydkn3e/pseuds/sydkn3e
Summary: Based on the following prompt: Sometimes when Dean is having a nightmare, he cries out for Cas. Usually it's just his name, but occasionally he'll cry out for Cas to raise him out of hell.Sam has never told Dean about this, but during some of these nightmares Sam will wake up and Cas will be sitting at the foot of Dean's bed whispering things in Enochian until Dean stops shaking in his sleep.
I wrote this little fic as part of my Secret Santa gift for Kayla Mcconnell for our Destiel Christmas Gift Exchange.Enjoy, Kayla!





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kayla Mcconnell](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Kayla+Mcconnell).



> I did a lot of research for this short.  
> To the best of my researching ability, the Enochian translations are correct (or as close as I could get them). If you find that they are not, please let me know. Thanks!

Sam jerked awake to the piercing sound of a ragged scream in the dead of night. It was Dean crying out in his sleep again, like he did most nights these days. Sam had grown accustomed to waking up to Dean's torturous nightmares, and often he would jump out of bed and run to Dean's side, shaking him violently until he could break him out of the vivid Hell memories he was sure he was having. Once awake, Dean would never let on how bad the nightmares were, although it was obvious to Sam based on his screaming and whimpering in his sleep. He would immediately revert to his macho fascade, pushing Sam away, usually while muttering some form of “I'm fine. Go back to bed, Sam.” 

Sam never brought the nightmares up the next day. He never asked Dean about them. Of course, Dean never indulged him with any information either. Dean was the strong, silent type; always had been, and this was apparently going to be no different. Sam knew it was Dean trying to protect him, like always, from the things he had seen and the places he had been. Even still, Sam knew that Dean was suffering, and he wanted to help, which was hard to do since he had no idea what was really going on in Dean's mind.

So instead, Sam listened to Dean's cries at night, hoping to hear some indication of what his brother had gone through. Mostly it was just raspy screams, a horrifying sound, breaking all reverie of the night. That was the way it usually started. Sometimes Dean would begin muttering, stringing together pleas of “No, no, please..” and “Alastair, I'm begging you”, among others that made Sam's heart ache. Sam watched some nights as Dean lay in bed, muttering and crying in his sleep, his body shaking violently in fear. He could only watch for so long before he got up to console him, much to Dean's chagrin. Dean didn't want his help. He was determined to get through this by himself.

But as the weeks passed, Dean had grown closer to Castiel, the angel who had somehow fought to find him in Hell, and subsequently pulled him out. Castiel had a presence about him that seemed to comfort Dean, even while Castiel himself frustrated them both to no end. His loyalty and allegiance to “the higher power” made him increasingly frustrating to work with, although he seemed to be making small steps towards his individual freedom. The dynamic between him and Dean was interesting. Sam could tell there was something there; something powerful, and deep. Something meaningful. He suspected that Dean had never been so emotionally attached to someone in the way he was to Castiel, unless he was counting Dean's love for him. And he wasn't because, well...this was different.  


What Dean and the angel shared was something wholly original. Their connection seemed to be almost archaic, like they had known each other their whole lives. When Castiel looked at Dean, he really looked at him. He really saw him. When he said Dean's name, there was this weight behind it, like he was having a whole conversation with one word.  


And if Sam wasn't convinced then that Castiel was in love with his brother, these nightmare-ridden nights proved it. A few weeks after Castiel pulled Dean out of Hell, Sam was once again woken in the middle of the night to Dean's bloodcurling scream echoing in their hotel room. He laid there for a minute, debating getting up, when he heard the familiar flap of wings. When he looked, there was Castiel, standing awkwardly at the end of Dean's bed. His cerulean eyes were squinted in his patented perpetually confused look, his head tilted to the side as he watched Dean writhe under the covers, whimpering a string of “No...no...please...Cas, please help me.” Sam watched quietly as Castiel regarded Dean with a pained expression on his face, fairly sure the angel was unaware that he was awake.  


Castiel sat at the very edge of Dean's bed, gently, so as not to make Dean aware of his presence. Then very, very quietly, he began muttering in his gruff, low voice, almost too softly for Sam to hear.  


_“Dean, ol bolape emna.”_  


Sam furrowed his brow, unsure if he was hearing Castiel correctly or if his exhaustion was clouding his ability to rationally understand what he was saying.  


_“Ol ooaoana vaoresa elasa. Olani ip bliors ol.”_  


It took Sam several minutes of eavesdropping to determine that Cas was speaking Enochian. The angel went on and on, speaking foreign phrases to his brother for several moments, then finally reaching out and placing a hand firmly on Dean's shoulder; the same one that bore his mark from saving Dean from hellfire. Minutes later, Dean's shaking and whimpering subsided, and he fell quiet. Almost immediately, he was snoring, and Castiel was gone.  


This happened on several occasions. Sam stopped getting up at night, because Castiel was always there to do the comforting, and Dean was none the wiser. Dean was sleeping better and becoming his old self again, and Sam had no complaints with that. However, Sam became increasingly curious as to what Castiel was saying to Dean at night. He wanted to know what the angel whispered to his brother that seemed to comfort him in a way he was unable to.  


For a few nights, Sam listened intently to Castiel's words, memorizing phrases to decode. After several more weeks of the nightmares and Castiel's inevitable comforting, Sam was able to understand the phrases that the angel whispered to his brother. Every phrase he learned strengthened his fondness for Castiel, as well as made him realize how human the emotions were that Castiel was expressing. Little by little, Castiel was learning what it felt like to experience emotion, and it was all for Dean. The angel, afraid of falling, had fallen in every way imaginable for The Righteous Man.  


On a particularly bad night, Dean screamed until his voice began to go hoarse, muttering pleas like a mantra. He shook uncontrollably, sobbing loudly in his sleep between screams and strained pleas. Sam almost got up, but stopped himself when Dean finally cried out for Cas, his voice cracking with obvious need. The tell-tale flapping announced Cas's presence, and Sam squeezed his eyes shut, listening intently.  


“Shhhhh...” the angel comforted, the bed squeaking as he settled quietly onto it. Sam opened his eyes a little, just enough to see Cas reach out and gently take Dean's quivering shoulder.  


“Hello, Dean.” He crooned softly, his voice low. _“Ol bolape emna.”_ I am here. _“Ol ooaoana vaorese elasa.”_ I will watch over you. _“Olani ip bliors ol.”_ I shall comfort you.  


Sam bit his lip, straining to hear, his breath shallow.  


Dean was still shaking violently, but his screams were reduced to pained muttering.  


Cas kept a firm grip on Dean's shoulder, speaking succinctly in a dominant tone, the foreign language rolling off his tongue fluently and professionally.  


_“Ol g-chis-ge nia-cod, pashs ol nanaeel ol.”_ You are safe, child of our creator. _“Brgdo, ol g-chis-ge nia-cod.”_ Sleep, you are safe. _“Nenni nidali hoxmarch.”_ Have no fear.  


Castiel's voice was calm and comforting, and Sam found himself relaxing and beginning to drift back to sleep. He had to force himself to open his eyes again, straining to hear more of what the angel had to say. Castiel was faintly rubbing his thumb over Dean's shoulder as he gripped him tightly, willing Dean to feel his presence.  


_“Elasa bolape ascha, baltoh ollor.”_ You are good, righteous man. _“Ol g-chis-ge givi.”_ You are strong. _“Ol g-chis-ge grosb.”_ You are worthy.  


Sam squeezed his eyes shut again, a single hot tear running down his face. It was a powerful experience, laying there listening to the angel praise his brother. His brother who would do anything for anyone, without expecting anything in return. His self-loathing brother who thought he deserved everything he had been through, despite Sam insisting otherwise. Here he was, unknowingly accepting praise from an angel of the Lord, and inadvertently being comforted by it. It was beautiful.  


Sam heard Cas take a deep breath, then let out a heavy sigh. Dean was mostly quiet now, his whimpers few and far between. This time when Cas spoke, his voice was somehow lower, and more intense.  


“Dean...” Cas started, his voice pregnant with need. _“Olani oai mad gassagen.”_ I am your angel. _“Ol g-chis-ge in.”_ You are mine. _“Nenni gono oe ollog.”_ Have faith in me.  


Sam chewed at his lip as another hot tear ran down his face.  


_“Ol g-chis-ge ol oadriax. Ol g-chis-ge tofglo. Ol ollog hoath.”_ You are my Heaven. You are everything. You make me love.  


Sam sucked in a quiet breath, staining to hear as Cas spoke impossibly lower, his voice cracking, barely whispering:  


_“Olani hoath ol, paid. Niis mad hoath olani lava.”_  


At that, Sam suppressed a small sob. He was unable to contain a sniffle, breaking the otherwise silent room since Dean's whimpering had subsided. His eyes flew open and he saw Cas staring at him, his hand still firmly pressed to Dean's shoulder. Cas's chapped lips were slightly parted, a woeful look on his face. Cas sucked on his lower lip absentmindedly, then dropped his eyes back to Dean. He gave Dean's shoulder a final squeeze, then he was gone.  


The angel was healing Dean, in more ways than one. Sam's head reeled at Cas's revelation, barely able to wrap his mind around what the angel had said.  


I love you, always. For your love I pray.


End file.
